


The Happy Ending

by MxCapa



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Circle of Light (Transformers), Fluff, Greatswords, Happy Ending, M/M, New Crystal City (Transformers), Wing Lives AU, spoilers for the Drift Miniseries, the greatswords are Important
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2018-11-16 09:28:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11250306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MxCapa/pseuds/MxCapa
Summary: What if Wing had never died? What if Drift had accepted the offer to be a Circle of Light member? And what if they all lived happily ever after, the end?





	1. The Trial

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SchrodingersOctopus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SchrodingersOctopus/gifts).



> this is what happens when you tell me to write a happy ending au  
> i do it  
> because i have no will to say no to happy drift/wing  
> hope you enjoy!!  
> [SPOILERS FOR THE DRIFT MINISERIES]

Drift was anxiously waiting outside of the discussion hall, waiting for Wing to show back up to tell him the verdict. The Circle of Light had decided that they should vote on if he should become a member of the Circle or not, and honestly, he wasn’t ready to hear the answer. Wing had told him, reassured him really, that he’d be voted in without fail, but Drift wasn’t convinced. Dai Atlas could probably sway anyone either way, and he was positive that, even given the past events, the giant mech _still_ wasn’t appreciative of Drift’s continued presence in the city.

But no matter what Dai Atlas thought, he was here, in the newly risen city. He gave a sigh, and slowly sat down. It frustrated Drift that all he could do was wait for them to come to a verdict on if he should stay or go, but Wing wasn’t going to come back out until everything was settled, and neither were any of the other knights. There was nothing better to do than reflect on things, like past events. Or sleep. But he was sure that it wasn’t actually _legal_ for him to sleep in public spaces. He didn’t think he could sleep with so many strangers around anyway. He closed his eyes, calming himself down as best he could before he began recalling what had happened.

The battle for New Crystal City took place a little over three months ago, making it easier to recall without the sudden rush of adrenaline and anxiety (easier was the key word, however, and he felt himself fighting to stay still). They had remodeled Drift beforehand, fitted him with swords and then waited for the enemy. (The wait was terrible, just like it was now.) But it was a great plan, in all honesty, to trick the slavers into thinking that there was only one ship. It had gone well, too. They didn’t think there were any more than what showed up. After a brief stand off, they fought, and for a while, things were going great. Until at one point, there was too much to remember, too much yelling, too much fighting. Everything was going fast, almost too fast, and there were screams next to his audial, and focusing on his next enemy was harder, and it was getting more and more difficult.

And then Wing got hit. 

And Wing went _down._

Drift glanced back towards the door to the discussion hall, silently reminding himself that Wing was alive, and he was _here, **alive,**_ debating on his behalf. After he was calm enough again, he continued on throughout the memories. 

Wing went down. The wound was through the chest, and Drift swore to Primus he saw Wing’s spark. There were jolts of electricity flying off of his plating, and Drift was running, running to where he was, on the ground, (on the _ground_ ) before he could stop himself. He launched himself at Braid, angry, panicked, terrified that he’d lose Wing. They fought, almost over Wing’s _body,_ and that’s when the city rose up. Drift, with pride, remembered hoards of angry Cybertronians, all armed to the tooth with weapons, fighting for their city, for their _home._ That wasn’t to say they were good at fighting, they were mostly scientists and philosophers, but they had that unpredictability that made them hard to fight. And fight they did.

And while Braid was distracted, Drift had grabbed Wing’s greatsword. In hindsight, it was a stupid idea, Wing often complained that his sword was “picky” or something, but regardless, he did it. And it felt **angry.** How a sword could feel angry, Drift didn’t know, but it did. It had, and it was vivid, that memory. They were both angry, and it was that, he thought, that gave him the ability to use it. And use it he did. 

He cut Braid in two. Right down the middle. He didn’t regret it, at all. The rest was a blur, the sword was there, in his hand, and then it _wasn’t_ , and that absence, the distinct _loss_ of something was what brought him back. He felt himself turn, and Dai Atlas, Axe, everyone in the Circle of Light, they were crowded around Wing, and someone was yelling, and then Axe was there, closer to him, guiding him gently back to Wing’s body. 

But he wasn’t dead. When he got there, to the front of the crowd that had gathered, Wing was being patched up by a medic, or at least someone who had some sort of medical knowledge, and he looked awful. But he was alive, and he wasn’t _dead_ , and-

The doors to the discussion hall opened, ripping Drift from his memories. He hadn’t realized he’d closed his eyes, but when he stood (a bit slower than he would’ve liked), his eyes opened, and he watched the gathering of mechs and femmes slowly make their way out of the hall. He felt his spark seize when he didn’t see Wing, and after a few moments of panicking, he almost hit himself in the leg to snap himself out of it. Wing was **alive**. There was nothing that could change that fact, the medics had been constantly observing him to make sure he was healthy. Apparently, what had happened was that Braid had clipped his spark chamber, causing his systems to. Do something. Embarrassingly enough, he wasn’t quite paying attention, he was more focused on the fact that Wing was alive. 

As if thinking of him summoned him, he saw Wing walk out of the open doors with Dai Atlas and Axe, deep in conversation, clearly, from the way he walked right past Drift. He watched as they slowly came to a halt a bit aways from the doors, and then went their separate ways. Wing gave a few moments pause after the other two mechs began walking, and then looked at Drift, and smiled.

“Well, if you’re going to live here, we’d better show you your room right?” Wing said, beckoning Drift with a tilt of his helm. Drift felt lighter than he had in weeks, nodding almost numbly as he walked to Wing, and they walked, in silence, for a bit, before Wing spoke up.

“They agreed to let you stay here, but it is your choice as to if you want to become a knight or not,” He said, turning his helm to look at Drift, and he smiled again. “You don’t have to, if that isn’t what you want. You could just live here, Drift. They would never hold that against you.” 

Drift only shook his head, focusing his gaze on Wing instead of in front of him for a solid few seconds, and Wing broke out into a series of small chuckles.  
“You look so serious.” Wing turned to look ahead, smiling, and Drift watched him for a couple moments afterwards, before speaking.

“Where will I be staying?” He looked ahead as well, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Well, if you’re that set on being a knight, then probably somewhere in the same building as me. But, I also cannot make you move out of my lodging, if you are more comfortable there?” It was a clear offer, and a very sweet one at that. Drift looked down at his feet, considering. It was a good few minutes before Wing’s voice cut through his thoughts.

“You don’t have to decide now,” He said. “Take as long as you need.” And Wing looked at him, with that infuriatingly understanding smile, and the kind eyes Drift almost lost. 

“I’d like to stay with you.” He said, softly, and with the way Wing leaned slightly, possibly almost inaudibly. “Stayin’ with you would be nicer than havin’ to adjust to living somewhere else.” He said, louder, so Wing could hear, looking away in mock aggravation. Wing only laughed.

“Whatever makes you the most comfortable, Drift. I enjoy your company.” After that, their walk was silent, but it was content. They didn’t need to speak. When they got back to Wing’s habsuite, he continued to sit with Wing in that calm silence until they both went to berth.


	2. Being Chosen Is A Big Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a Big Important Thing happens in this chapter  
> they have a moment too

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sO THIS CHAPTER. GAVE ME A LOT OF TROUBLE. BUT ITS FINALLY DONE, AAAA.  
> take THAT.  
> its also very long this usually doesnt happen??? but it is a Long Chapter
> 
> also, thank you to Influx for commenting on the last chapter! you're a big reason as to why this chapters not up two weeks from now tbh, thank you for the positive feedback!

When Drift woke up the next morning, he immediately noticed that Wing wasn’t there, and after letting his processor adjust to being awake, he went to go find him. It wasn’t hard, he took three steps out of the berthroom and Wing was there, meditating nearby, two cubes of energon on the nearest table. This wasn’t unusual, Wing loved to meditate in the morning, and could sit for hours, listening to his own systems while he meditated. It was just alarming to wake up and have Wing not be there after the battle.

Drift gently extended his em field to mesh comfortably with the outer layer of Wing’s while he got his energon cube to let the other know he was there. As he felt a faint pulse of greeting from the other mech via his field, he smiled, and pushed a short wave of _calm, content, patience_ toward him, hoping to let him know that he was perfectly alright with waiting for Wing to finish his mediation. However, Wing was already moving to stand up, and only sent a brief appreciative pulse back. Drift bit open a hole in his cube, walking over to a couch and sat down, waiting for Wing to fully reorient himself and grab his own cube before pulling his field back and saying anything.

“Have a good sleep?” He questioned, looking Wing over. Said mech gave a small laugh, and smiled.

“You’ve been asking me that for the past three months, Drift. I am fine. Nothing is wrong. You’ve rigorously questioned the medics, and asked me nearly every day if I was alright. You should know better than anyone that nothing is wrong with me.” Even though their fields were no longer connected, he could feel Wing emphasizing his words with unguarded emotions in his field. Even after all this time in New Crystal City, Drift still didn’t understand how he could do that. It was so much easier to be guarded, yet Wing openly displayed everything he felt and thought in his field and optics and words. He shook his head, gesturing at Wing with his cube.

“Who knows. You can never be too sure. The spark is, it’s important, and yours got.” He forced himself to stop as he gripped his cube tighter and looked away. After a few seconds he felt Wing step forwards, and as his field pressed gently against his, he recoiled, pulling his field tightly to his body. 

“Drift.” Wing practically whispered, voice laden with concern. “I’m fine. I promise. You would be the first to know if something felt off.” 

He felt Wing stop, and he forced himself to look up at the other mech, reminding himself that nothing bad had happened in the months leading up to this, so it was extremely likely that Wing _was_ alright.

The knight was deliberating, clearly, hands near his chest as he wrung them gently. Concern and worry mixed in his field before Wing eventually took a step back, and sighed.

“I’m fine, Drift. But there’s actually something more important for us to discuss.” He took a few steps back to give Drift room before he started drinking from his cube of energon. Drift stood, wanting to argue that it was unlikely that something could be more important than his health, but restrained, giving Wing a minute of silence. After Wing was done drinking some of his energon, he seemed to be in better spirits, giving Drift a small smile.

“Dai Atlas thinks it’s time for you to be chosen.” Wing said with bright and shiny enthusiasm practically emanating off of his being.

“Chosen? What do you mean?” He almost sat back down out of sheer confusion. Wing set his cube of energon down and started to gesture with his hands as he explained.

“Dai Atlas thinks you proved yourself during the battle, and thinks that you’re ready to be chosen by a Greatsword.” His optics were bright and alive, and Drift saw Wing’s hand go to the hilt of his own Greatsword before moving to be back by his side. He remembered that sword, the power behind it, the _anger_. He shook his head slightly, and the disbelief must have been tangible, because Wing looked ready to say something before Drift cut him off.

“I. I dunno, Wing,” Drift whispered, drinking the last of his energon and dissolving the container. “Dai Atlas thinks I’m ready?”

“Oh yes!” Wing took a small step forwards, a smiling slowly forming on his face. He looked so happy. “He was quite sure! And I think you’re ready too.” His field was gently pressing against Drift’s, excitement and an unwavering resolute feeling being pushed into his. Wing was so sure of him, so proud. He had to take a step back, and Wing didn’t follow, giving him space.

“I believe in you, Drift. I truly think you’re ready to be chosen.” Drift looked away, giving a small pause. If Dai Atlas and Wing _both_ believed in him, what was there to lose? If they both thought he was ready, he could do this. 

“Alright. But I’m not quite sure what I have to do. You’ve never told me about this, Wing.” He looked up at Wing, and saw him moving around, collecting certain things and shoving them into his subspace. 

“I cannot tell you anything about the ceremony. That is for Dai Atlas to tell. I will not be allowed to attend this with you, you will have to experience it on your own. Know that it is different for everyone, and no matter what you do, it will be alright.” And as a punctuation to his sentence, Wing opened the door, and stepped out. Drift hurried to follow him, and they set a nice, but almost hurried pace to the discussion building (it had it’s own name, but Drift never cared to learn it).

The walk there was brief, the building where their habsuite was was nearby, just in case an emergency meeting was called and Wing, and now Drift he supposed, had to be there asap. When they got there, and stepped into the building, Drift was immediately pulled aside by someone, and he struggled for a good few seconds before he heard the mech talk.

“Stop your struggling. It’s just me, lad.” Axe said, giving him a hearty pat on the back as he smiled. Drift stumbled forwards, and he heard Wing laugh softly.

“Axe! It has been a while, hasn’t it?” Wing said warmly as Axe turned to him. Drift only vaguely heard other bits of their conversation before he saw Dai Atlas walking towards him, and he instinctively braced himself for something bad.

“So you chose to come.” The way Dai Atlas was looking at him made him tense, and his words held more meaning than Drift could pick apart in the few seconds he had, so he simply nodded, and held still. He heard Wing and Axe somewhat quiet their own conversation, and suddenly, it was almost silent. Dai Atlas continued to scrutinize him, before he inhaled deeply, and the look on his face morphed into something less intense.

“This is a privilege, Drift. But you will not be choosing a Greatsword. A Greatsword will be choosing you, and you need only find it.” And he turned, and began walking towards a door behind him, a tad left to the entrance to the room where most debates seemed to happen. Drift quickly walked after him, but he did not hear Wing or Axe follow him. He glanced backwards, and saw Wing raise his hand in a gesture, before he turned back around and followed Dai Atlas in. The corridor they were walking down was one he had never been down before. He had seen the door before, but it had never been open. It was completely black, and it took a moment for his optics to readjust to the minimal light. Dai Atlas stood to the side, and motioned for him to step in, and he did, hesitantly, before he started walking down the hall, hand on the wall for security in the darkness.

“Dai Atlas, how will I know when I’ve found the sword?” Drift inquired, turning to see only the taller mech’s red eyes staring at him from inside the dark space behind him. 

“You will know.” And Dai Atlas halted him with an arm in front of him. While Drift took a step back, Dai Atlas took a few steps forwards, pulling his Greatsword from his back. He held it up to the blackness, the blade and hilt flat on both palms. The gem glowed, and as it did, the wall illuminated with small dots of blue light that combined into a spiral pattern, and opened, spiraling to show a pale gold room with swords in two rows on the walls, and a dais in the center with swords in it, on the edge, in a circle as well. Dai Atlas paused, and looked at the room before he turned to face Drift.

“You will sit on the dais, in the very center, and meditate. Push your em field to encompass the entire room, and you will feel it.” He spoke softer than Drift had ever heard him speak, it was quiet and filled with reverence. He stepped out of the way for Drift, sheathing his sword on his back. Drift looked at him, and paused to nod before he stepped through the door. Almost instantly, it spiraled shut behind him, blocking out any darkness from the hallway. He was alone, with the Greatswords. 

He walked in a circle around the room, curiously eyeing each Greatsword, before walking to the dais. There was a spot where the circle was incomplete, where it seemed a Greatsword should have been, but was no longer, and he walked through that space to the center. As he sat down, the room seemed to hum, and then it hushed as he closed his eyes. As he tentatively stretched his em field out, he found that each Greatsword around him, in the circle, responded to it, humming in its own way, coming to life almost. Some felt extremely wrong as they chimed, and some felt like they could be something, but they were missing something. Slowly but surely, as his em field extended, it felt more and more like each Greatsword was its own entity, and by the time he realized his em field was past them, and half way out to the outer wall, he froze, and sucked his em field back to his body. 

The closest Greatswords made a loud chime as his em field whipped past them, and he found himself apologizing under his breath. He looked around again, making sure that no one else was in the room with him, and tried to settle down again. He pushed his em field past the inner circle of Greatswords, and found himself hesitating, pushing and urging himself to go farther, but he could barely get it there. It felt like there were people standing all around him, humming, and the fear of opening up more than his em field’s outer layer was strong, stronger than him it felt like. He tried multiple times to force himself to push past the fear, past the feeling of being watched. It felt like hours, he kept trying and failing until he was at the point of calling Dai Atlas. And then he heard it.

It was soft and small, like the brief echos of a wind chime, and it made him stop. He halted all movement, and everything stilled in the room. It was quiet. The humming had more or less faded, and he slowly lifted his head to where he thought the noise was. His em field worked of it’s own will it seemed, and it began to hesitantly creep and edge forwards to meet the source of the sound. When it happened again, it was like the wind had become stronger, blowing the chimes so more noise was heard. It was almost straight ahead, just out of reach, but as his em field surged ahead, the hums there that met him weren’t quite right. 

He tried again, sending a questioning pulse through his em field before he got a response, another chime, soft but louder, and it wasn’t quite forwards. It was a little to the left. He went down the line of Greatswords, working his way from straight ahead to left, and the hums, the noises, were off until it was _there_. The sword was on the lower circle, slightly to the left from straight ahead, and it _chimed,_ it practically _**sang**_ at him, and his eyes flashed open, and he looked to where he knew the sword was.

It was like he was seeing himself, and he shook his head before looking over again. As he saw it, it chimed again, and he stood up, taking a moment to balance himself before he walked to the sword. It was a plain-ish looking sword from a distance, but as he walked to it, he could see that there was intricate patterns in the hilt, and a few carved into the blade. It hummed at him, and the gem glowed as he approached, and he put his hand on the blade before he knew what he was doing. It made his spark pulse, and he saw the gem glow, his own optics reflected in it, and he heard the door unspiral. The sword’s gem dimmed, but he kept his hand on the blade. He could almost hear it, in his mind, something softly laughing at him. He realized that his mouth was agape before someone’s voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“Drift. Drift, did you find the sword?” It was Dai Atlas, and he turned to see him leaned into the room, looking at him.

“Yeah.” He said, turning back to look at the sword, smiling. “Yeah I did.”


	3. A Reversed Eight of Swords

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drift tries something hard, but it pays off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW ITS BEEN A W H I L E Y'ALL  
> im so sorry school's been, uh, hell  
> i've been having to write so much for my english class that i didn't have the energy to write for this story but iT'S BREAK NOW I HAVE BREAK.... SO I CAN WRITE FOR A WHILE  
> THANK Y'ALL FOR HANGIN WITH ME AAAAAAAA  
> and that you so much for the feedback! it means a lot!

Meditating with a sword was difficult. 

Well, to be more accurate. Meditating was difficult, and adding a new element to meditation made it harder, and honestly, Drift was certain that he’d never get the hang of it. But he was determined to at the very least focus in on the sword, like Wing had told him to at least _try_ to do about an hour ago.

He opened one optic, peeking at Wing who sat across from him. His em field was uncharacteristically close to his plating and he had his optics shut, making himself look peaceful. He seemed to be effortlessly connecting with his Greatsword, and Drift was almost envious. Wing made it look so easy. He always made it look easy.

Drift soundlessly sighed, shifting his position to try to keep a proper posture as he looked down at his Greatsword. It was laid out on his hands, blade and handle on both palms like Dai Atlas had held his to open the door to the Greatsword room. But even as he held it, he couldn’t sense anything coming from it but a sense of calm anticipation. However, the chiming that he had heard in the golden circular room with the other Greatswords was gone. Now it was silent, and he made a face at it, trying to provoke an answer. He got a vague sense of amusement, even laughter, from the sword and his face flushed with embarrassment, and he made _another, **worse**_ face at the sword’s gem.

“Drift,” Wing whispered, amusement clear in his tone, and Drift tensed. After a pause, he slowly looked up at Wing who had one optic barely open, amber light cascading over his face to barely illuminate his face and finials as he smiled. “That’s not how you do it.”

Drift stared at him for a second, mouth ajar before he huffed and turned his face away, face flushing even further as he purposefully hunched and ruined his posture. The sense of amusement faded from the direction of the sword, and he looked at it, frowning.

“The sword doesn’t wanna talk t’me, Wing. It hasn’t said anythin’ since we started.” He muttered, looking at the sword again. There was barely anything to be sensed from it anymore, no laughter or amusement. Just a sense of waiting. It got under his plating, and he flared parts of his armor bit by bit to try and get the feeling to go away. Wing watched him for a few moments and then moved, adjusting his Greatsword to rest on his lap.

“Sometimes, it takes time. Your bond is new, Drift, you can’t expect results immediately. Dai Atlas knows this. He wants you to bond with your sword, but that doesn’t mean that he wants results immediately. He would rather you take it slowly and build a deeper bond than rush it.” While Drift highly doubted Wing’s words, he nodded. Dai Atlas had told him and Wing after he had come out of the chamber that Drift was to ‘meditate with his sword until he has a strong bond’. Wing looked absolutely ecstatic when Drift had come out of the room, cheerfully informing him that it had only taken him _three days_ to complete the ritual. It certainly hadn’t felt like three days. 

Wings’ hands moved to be just under Drifts’, lifting them slightly off his lap and breaking him out of his thoughts. Drift gave a small questioning noise, but Wing didn’t respond, seeming too focused to say much. In response to Wing’s silence and drawn back em field, Drift slowly adjusted his posture, righting himself from where he had been hunched over. He attempted to pull his em field back as well, but Wing gave a short sharp look to him, a clear ‘stop’, and he didn’t attempt it again.

“It’s like meeting a new friend,” Wing stated quietly after a good while, still holding up Drifts’ hands. “You have to start from the bottom and work your way up.” 

After being sure that Drift would keep his hands in the air, Wing withdrew, moving backwards a bit more to resume his own meditation. Part of Drift wanted Wing to keep holding his hands throughout this. It was nicer when he was there. Especially after the last three months. Pausing at that last thought, he vented slightly, adjusting himself once more before he shut his optics again.

He tried to focus on the sword in his hands. It wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t exactly _hard,_ either. It was easier when he had to think about the sword being evenly lifted by both his hands, but that meant he also had to focus on his body. Holding the sword and trying to talk to it seemed like it would be easier than this before he started this.

He tried not to move or focus on anything but the sword, but after a few minutes the feeling of waiting becoming less of a feeling under his plating and more a pressure against his spark. It was uncomfortable, and he shifted, squeezing his optics tighter. 

It slowly stopped feeling like waiting and started feeling like anxiety, the pressure suddenly a stabbing pain and his em field went rigid. He flared his plating, tensing, only to be met with the feeling dissipated, to be replaced with a feeling of apology. He almost opened his optics, but firmly reminded himself not to, even as he adjusted himself, relaxing his plating. It had changed when his em field changed. He experimentally tested this out, sending out a pulse of tentative forgiveness and got back a wave of relief.

If anything involving em fields worked, he could probably do this, right? Giving the idea a bit of thought, he set in his mind what he was going to try to do, even at the risk of making himself look like an idiot.

He began slowly, thinking of the word ‘hello’ and tried to project it into his em field, which slowly ebbed outwards to encompass the Greatsword. It took a good minute of trying to extend the inner parts of his em field to the Greatsword, but as soon as the inner shell of his em field touched it, he stiffened again, ventilations catching. 

There were so many names coming to his mind, mecha and places he’d never seen before, cliffs and expansive gardens and fields of flowers flashing in his processor. He withdrew his em field impulsively, optics snapping open, HUD sending alerts that his fans were abruptly on high and that he needed to cool down. As he looked down, venting hard to cool down, the Greatsword’s gem was glowing a bright azure, and a feeling of apology was ebbing around his spark, sheepish and repenting. He then looked up at Wing, who’s optics were wide, worry and awe clear in his field which now extended to his, comforting him.

“Drift, are you.” Wing paused as their optics met, retracting his em field before gently pressing it against Drift’s again. “Are you alright?”

“Wing, it _talked_ , I think. Not with words, but, but with _pictures_ , with _**feelings**_.” Drift spoke quietly and slowly, in equal parts terrified and excited. He slowly got up, gingerly placing the Greatsword on the table nearby, stepping back to look at it. His armor was practically rattling with the strength of his fans, and he shook his head. “There were names, too, Wing, names.”

Wing came to stand beside him, gently taking a hold of one of his hands. They stood there, together, Drift looking at the glowing Greatsword, Wing standing next to Drift, watching him worriedly. 

Drift, after some gentle urging from Wing, slowly stepped forwards and picked the Greatsword up by the hilt, looking at the gem which only shone brighter now that it was in Drifts’ hands. Wing’s em field, filled with concern slowly pressed against Drift’s back.

“Are you alright though, Drift?” Wing asked, clearly hesitant to break the silence that had settled between them. Drift took a few seconds to evaluate himself, systems cooled and processor clear. He took a bit to look himself over too, and then put the Greatsword on his back, using the newly installed clamps to keep it in place. He turned to Wing, pressing _calm, determined, good_ into his em field, letting it speak for him. Wing smiled and clasped his hands around Drift’s. “I’m glad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im really happy with this chapter, honestly? drift's sword likes him, and cares about him a lot actually it's just really eager to show him things and love him  
> a little too eager but they get better, they both get the hang of each other its super good i promise  
> (and here's something for the story title! https://www.biddytarot.com/tarot-card-meanings/minor-arcana/suit-of-swords/eight-of-swords/ be sure to look at the reversed reading!)  
> but a question!!!  
> would y'all like to see a chapter from Wing's perspective? i've been writing Drift's perspective up until now because the story is meant to be about him, but i've been wanting to write a chapter with Wing's perspective. would y'all like that?  
> thanks again for reading!


End file.
